2010 Photo Review

January | I began the year among the bedazzled and celebratory masses as we welcomed another year by running in a monsoon.

February | The quest to tour the pioneer cemeteries within the city began. By year's end, more than half were visited plus a few extras.

March | Thanks to an amazing husband, my birthday celebrations took place on paradise beaches, underneath blue skies and swaying palms. Hawaii was our first journey of 2010--a first of many trips to come.

April | The month began with a visit from Mom and Jennie. It was a soggy and cold week, the only one the entire winter. Mid month Timbers mayhem seized our minds, souls, bodies and clothing. It reached a frenzied excitement when Zach won the Timber smoothie competition, giving us a year supply of free smoothies.

May | I scratched off a bucket list item by participating in the McMinnville sprint triathlon. It was an exhilarating and empowering event, one that still makes me giddy with excitement.

June | Thanks to Zach's work trip to Seattle, I was able to spend time with the Tran family and introduce Lori to day road trips. The Olympic Peninsula was our playground for a day and we had so many laughs and adventures.

July | We celebrated the marriage of great friends, Josh and Melissa, alongside many friends in a vineyard. It was an amazing day and Zach did a phenomenal job performing the ceremony.

August | Thanks to Joel working fairs throughout the summer, Kaden and I spent ample time exploring Oregon especially within the confines of the Gorge.

September | Our annual trek to Kentucky; Zach performed another wedding and I immersed myself in country living. It was one of my favorite trips back to the motherland because we were able to be tourist--Burea, Shaker Village, Churchill Downs, etc.

October | We walked among the beasts of the forest. Our Hwy 101 road trip was culminated by frolicking among the mighty Redwoods of Northern California. Utterly breathtaking.

November | Within a one month we experienced the jubilation of secured employment and the devastating loss of employment on the international job front. It was a rough blow, one that deflated our souls and hopes.

December | It was a ying yang month. We visited the serenity of Mt. Hood multiple times, but ended the month on the road and in the City of Lights that never sleeps, Las Vegas.

The Road Trip That Fought Back

The scent of pancakes wafted into our bedroom. The pitter patter of a toddler's tarry were heard outside the door. We awoke excited to reconnect with our friends, the Brooks family, over breakfast. Matthew and Emily were comrades during the seminary days. Emily and I held the sugar momma role while the boys spent their days figuring out scriptural stuff. It has been two years since seeing each other. Once we made the road trip announcement on facebook, they offered their home as a hotel during the trip and we accepted. 

Breakfast discussion ranged from retelling stories from the glory days to stories about life in a rural area. Matthew is the pastor of a rural church, so after the pancakes had settled we took a morning walk to tour the facility. 


The noon hour struck; we began our final push to the bungalow. The most dramatic event of the day was my need to use the bathroom three times within a forty mile stretch. I drank hot tea at breakfast which (apparently) was my bladder's undoing. Zach goaded me for hours. 

Upon pulling into the To-Banker abode, we sighed and gave the ceremonial high five for another successful road trip completed. It was bumpier than most--500 miles of rain, horrible mountain pass traffic, car trouble, windstorms, missing gas stations, Las Vegas meltdowns, etc.

For the Banker archives, it has been marked as The Road Trip That Fought Back.

Dam, The Wind

The adventures of another day beckoned us from our cozy bed cocoon. It was another day of many, many miles to be driven and we had sites to see before nightfall.

Our first stop was Hoover Dam. Copious dam comments were whisked away by the ferocious and unrelenting high winds, resulting in many "what did you say?" responses (knowing full well what had been said.)

The new highlight to the dam experience was the new bridge. I had recently read about this architectural marvel in a Popular Photography magazine and was excited to see it. 

  

The summation of Hoover Dam activities is a walkabout continually expressing the brilliance  of the engineering, awe over its completion in a day with minimal construction tools and admiration for the natural setting.

This visit included facing hurricane force winds and surviving with nothing more than an extremely bad hair day. 

The winds did not relent as we trekked into California. The power was staggering and decimating to our gas mileage. The Mojave Desert was one large sand storm highlighted by warm sunshine. 

By Bakersfield the winds of fury had subsided and we made a pit stop to honor our friend, Roger Trautmann. He has repeatedly referred to Bakersfield as the land of golden opportunity. It smelled like cow manure. 

The miles passed beneath the shimmy-free car. Our search for Mexican food in Fresno was a complete fail when the gas station attendant directed us to the Falls Restaurant--"it is a Mexican place, the guys that work there and the owners are Mexican." My enchilada had broccoli in it. 


The calm of the night quickly turned to stress when unexpectedly our gas light illuminated at midnight, twenty miles from Willows (our stopping point for the evening) and no gas stations could be found for miles. Exit signs declared gas stations but failed to back up their claims. Frantic prayers were flung, "stupid California" exclamations were expressed and breaths were held. One mile before our destination a glorious 76 station sign beckoned as the northern star. We pulled in on fumes and filled our tank to capacity minus a third of a tank. 


We would discover within 24 hours that somewhere in the trek we had gotten a bad tank of gas that was destroying our gas mileage, though the windstorm did its own fair share of damage. By using all gas in our tank (though not by choice) we had rectified the bad gas mileage problem. 

Waking Up In Vegas

There are precise moments when it is reiterated that marriage is a good thing, today was one of those moments--a man to handle the car problem. As I lounged in the provided plush robe on the fainting couch in front a full length window overlooking palm trees and swimming pools, Zach sat at a mechanic shop (which was established when Eisenhower was president) trying to figure out the issues. 


By noon Zach returned to the hotel; car left at the shop. We hit the strip with gusto. 

The Las Vegas strip during in the day is a tamer yet odd twin to the night version. Underneath sunshine the strip swells with Elvis impersonators (our count for the day was four) and a gambit of other characters including Gumby, the devil, Bumblebee, etc. Ironically the first characters we saw were Zach's beloved Star Wars heroes. 

We had completed one half of the strip by the time Zach received the CRV-is-finished call. Four hundred dollars later, we drove to the Flamingo Casino parking garage and descended into the Strip's night life. The Mirage's volcano. The Sirens of TI show. The story of Atlantis. 

The awesome mirrors of random hallways.

The dancing Bellagio fountains. 

Zach trying to win our fortune at the penny slots.

We fell into bed in the wee hours of the night, leg weary but content. 

Southtown, USA

It was an act of impromptu at its finest. The itch had been present for a week or so; the opportunity seemed too good to be misused or neglected completely. Christmas created a mere diversion, but Sunday morning we made the decision. Within two hours of facing the day, we drove into the big, unknown world for another road trip.

We determined Southtown, USA was a perfect destination; we needed sun, warmth and blue skies. The Sunday drive was near miserable with unrelenting downpour of rain, confirming our distaste for the current weather and the need to abandon the northwest for five days. We pulled into Redding, soggy yet happy to be traveling. We stayed in a dive hotel. Cheap is good but at times unnerving especially after Zach’s bed inspection he had to mesh the coverings of both beds to comprise a single, clean sleeping area. The shower was amazing, though.

By this time our route was more defined. Redding to Reno, side jaunt to Lake Tahoe, head south to Las Vegas then swoop into California for the dash home. However, during this discussion it came to our attention that our trusty side kick, Atlas, was missing from the CRV. A mere inconvenience which turned into a debacle (gas stations no longer carry atlases and it would be a in-the-middle-of-nowhere NV town that provided a free Nevada map, much to our relief and after a twenty minute detour. I kissed the map.)

Monday morning we awoke early, battled the weird Redding road layout (searching for a Starbucks fix) and headed east to the Sierra Nevadas. 

The Sierra Nevada passes put us two and a half hours behind schedule. To our astonishment, the roads were clear and the cars at a standstill. We have been repeatedly told that the traffic snafus of Oregon are caused by Californian transplants who don’t know how to drive; after today, we may start believing the tales. The scenery was gorgeous to look at through the window of a car driving 40 mph. The dips, rolls and curves of the majestic mountains were mesmerizing, especially since the vibrant sun gave the winter wonderland a glitter overtone. 

We pulled into the biggest littlest city in the world after 1pm. We walked the strip. We immersed ourselves in the constant ding-ding-ding casino ambiance. We took our picture with the iconic welcome sign. We ate at In-N-Out, a checklist item for Zach.

  

We pulled out of town twenty minutes passed three, having made the executive decision to forgo the side jaunt to Lake Tahoe in order to get to Las Vegas at a semi decent hour. Four hundred and twenty miles separated the two cities—miles comprised of brush, sand, blink-and-you-will-miss-it towns and Hwy 50--dubbed the 'Loneliest Highway in America.' 

The sunset tones muted the desert browns. Shadows lengthened and became lost in the black of night. Stars appeared in mass quantities. Our car began to shimmy, shake and sound as though Zach continually drove on the side road ridges. Las Vegas couldn't have looked better to us at midnight. 


Well, I got jazzed by the lights, energy and excitement, but Zach recoiled in horror and over stimulation.


Thirty minutes later he was calm and (at least) smiling at our surroundings. 

Our awesome Flamingo suite made the world right and we fell into its warm welcome readily. 

However, (even in a near delirium phase) I had to take a moment to document the awesome TV in the mirror in the bathroom. 

Hark, the Angel

The Christmas mojo has been lacking in the Banker bungalow. Multiple factors play a role, but it has been disappointing and tough to muster excitement for a holiday that I normally adore and thrive within its glory. Last night we took a stroll along Peacock Lane, an exorbitant display of gaudy, weird and gorgeous lights. It made me smile, especially when I saw this angel. Granted it was in front of a Rudolph display, but its simplicity made me pause and take a picture--the only one of the night stroll.

Day Trip: Sisters

In order for Stephanie to enjoy our Tuesday evening festivities, I offered to drive her to Sisters today. We had a fun trip, accentuated by good weather through the passes. 

It is always odd yet thrilling to experience balmy weather and snow covered roads within an hour of each other.

Festivities of O

The festivities of O overtook our house tonight. The life group convened and the hilarity pursued; pasta dinner, sundae bar for dessert and a white elephant exchange with gifts beginning in O. It was a great night. 

The Mountain Beckons

The crappy weather in the valley becomes a bearable thing upon hitting the 1500 foot elevation point; rain in the valley equals snow in the mountains. With Joe's Donuts, Christmas music and laughter within the toasty confines of the CRV we trekked our way to the mountain. Zach and Brett were to ski the Timberline slopes and I was planning to trudge the paths on snowshoes. Our itinerary about changed upon reaching Zigzag when a Honda Fit in the left lane hit a patch of ice, twirled as though a ballerina in the Nutcracker, T-boning the Merona five feet in front of us and stopped in our path. Thanks to Zach's spectacular driving and the ability to grab traction at the right moment, we missed the Fit by centimeters. No one was hurt and the damage was minimal. However, my distaste for Honda Fits increased when I saw how it tossed about as if it was a beach ball.

Two miles up the road chains were required.

Four miles later, we saw a car that had performed some twirls and landed in the ditch. It has chains on the tires.

An hour and half after leaving the soggy valley, we arrived at Timberline. She was beautiful.

The boys donned their skis and were off; I slipped into the snowshoes and began the trudge. Unfortunately, the snowshoe trails I had read about were practically nonexistent (confirmed by the blank stare given to me by a Timberline employee). I hiked the slopes, following the Nordic ski track which meant going up the blue slopes. It was entertaining to watch the skiers and boarders, receiving odd looks from many. Around the lifts I was yelled at often; one guy even asked, "Are you doing that on purpose?"

Too quickly our reconvene time arrived. The boys had survived the first ski trip of the year, including the jelly legs and wipe out stories. From hearsay, it seems Brett has an inane skill to cut skiers and boarders off mid slope.

We ended our evening refueling at Full Sail in Hood River; a great post mountain pit stop.

Post Saudi Breakup

It hasn't been easy. My imagination was captured. My excitement to learn a language was in full force. Pieces of our furniture have been sold, while others had 'dibs' on them. Christmas presents were not to be bought. Rain is a poor substitute for warmth and sand.

Life moves on. The ache of loss diminishes. Reflections happen.

It's the what-I-have-learned-during-the-Saudi-breakup list.

1. At times, having ethics suck. Many times they do not work in our favor. However, a wise and greatly valued friend said, "The alternative is much worse."

2. Christians are really bad at condolences. For example:

• "I am sorry it didn't work out for you but that means I don't have to say goodbye" is the equivalent of saying "congrats that your dreams are shattered and your life is at a standstill but I feel good."
• "I'm praying for you" is cliche for "I have nothing better to say," but in the off chance they are actually praying I have found myself asking people their prayer contents to be certain it is in our best interest; see example one. 
• "God has a plan for your life" makes me roll my eyes, fake vomit and swoon due to overuse. 
• "When God closes one door, He opens another": Is God running Monsters, Inc at the moment? 

3. Hope is a fragile yet precious thing.

4. Don't announce drastic re-locations until you have visas, in hand, and are boarding the plane. 

Keep Trudging

The constant sky dribble, compliments of the Pineapple Express, has not been a soothing balm to the restless and irritated soul. The ominous gray cloak and water rivulets down the windows have felt suffocating for a soul that was ready to experience warmth, sun and copious amounts of sand. The To(less)-Banker abode has been ever so silent this week; a reminder that our fabulous housemates are on the other side of the world and we are stagnant in a journey. 

I needed to get out of the basement. I needed to see beauty and experience awe. I needed to feel something and anything -- The wind across my face. The sun across my shoulders. The beating of a heart under physical duress, that longs to be happy, alive and thrive in the unknown. I needed to be reminded that life is bigger than disappointments.

I went snowshoeing. Alone. 

My couple of hours on the mountain didn't bring about grand revelations or instant solutions. Sludging through deep powder, one snowshoed foot fall after another, gulping air that is pristine, sweating profusely while contemplating how I chose such an uphill battle was the point.

Keep trudging.

Some paths will be defined, some will be an experimental test of the unknown and others will be on the horizon for future discovery.

Behind the Scenes

Each year we take great care with our Christmas card. It is a treat for us to plot, plan, scheme, design and (finally) mail them. Some years are simple, some are serious, others are off the cuff and sometimes we scrounge for the right picture. However, there are the years that we just can not do the normal 'acceptable' pose. This is one of those years. 

Into the wee hours of the morning, we laughed ourselves to tears over the hilarity of our brilliant and creative selves.